Ithilien
by sazza-da-vampire
Summary: Family Matters. "Our purpose in Ithilien is twofold. We are here to rebuild and replant Ithilien, to make this forest beautiful again. But we have a greater purpose. Andunëthon, Esteliel, Bragoglín, come forward, please." Legolas brings the very last thing Faramir expected when settling Ithilien. Elvish children!


Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable

Ithilien

"Prince Legolas!"

Legolas stopped at the sound of the Steward's voice, and joined the Man in a small office nearby. "Yes, Faramir?"

"I saw the resumes of those Elves wishing to settle in Ithilien in the near future."

"Yes, I was rather pleased that so many have chosen to come."

"I was under the impression you were bringing gardeners, much as Gimli's folk are providing smiths and builders for the rebuilding of Minas Tirith." The Man's brow furrowed as he glanced at the parchments on the desk.

"Yes, I am looking forward to seeing the Dwarves creating masterpieces of architecture."

"Legolas, all the Elves who have expressed an interest in Ithilien are warriors, and a few healers."

"Of course they are. Who did you expect to come?"

"Gardeners!"

Legolas looked strangely upon Faramir, as if the Man had grown a second head. "I'm sorry?"

"How can you make a settlement in Ithilien with only warriors and a few healers? The people of Gondor would certainly consider it to be a military encampment!"

"Faramir," Legolas explained patiently, "Ithilien is on the border of the Ephel Duath. Orcs still surely roam Mordor. Ithilien cannot rely on Gondor for protection."

"What about the gardeners?"

"What about them?"

"None have said they will come, Legolas!"

"I see many gardeners in that list. Not just in their names, but in knowing them personally. Why, Lady Brethildíl's garden is the envy of elves across the Greenwood! Even a five year old Silvan child can grow a garden."

"These are warriors, Legolas. The people of Gondor will consider your folk a war party if there are not civilians among them. I'm sorry, but that is the way of Men."

"There are no civilians in Eryn Lasgalen, with the exception of a very small minority of woodworkers, weavers, jewelsmiths and other professionals. Even the seneschals can defend themselves against an orc or spider. It has been necessary for survival in the Woodland Realm in recent centuries."

Faramir backed down on that front, accepting Legolas' word, but not before voicing one other concern. "At least include some ellyth, then, Legolas. The Men would feel much more comfortable if, when your people arrive, they have some civilians among them."

"There are ellyth in this list, Faramir. As I said before, there are few true civilians in the wood. Most ellyth are healers, many are warriors. My own cousin is a warrior, and my sisters are healers. They will all be coming, though my sisters and my nieces will likely return to Eryn Lasgalen after the initial healing of Ithilien is done."

Faramir shook his head in defeat. "You will have to explain this to the Men, many times, I think. The Elves in these resumés look like a company of warriors ready for a siege."

"I may be able to convince the healers, at least, to not openly display their weapons. You will have to explain why to them, perhaps before they enter Gondor."

"If it is necessary," the Man agreed reluctantly.

Six months later, Legolas rode south along the Anduin with a number of Elves from Eryn Lasgalen, and from Lothlorien. Galenmir, acting as scout, rode back to the column, signalling through birdsong as well as gestures that they were about to be beset by fifty orcs.

"_Archers to the centre! Swords in front_!" Legolas ordered crisply, in Silvan after the fashion of the warriors of the Greenwood. "_Protect the children!_"

In a few moments, the warriors were ready for battle. Legolas' world narrowed to the orcs immediately before him when a guttural snarl shattered the air, and the orcs were upon them.

Arrows sang, and Legolas very quickly switched to knife-fighting, for he must at all costs keep the orcs away from the children, and the healers. Elves armed with bows and swords were never a good enemy, and very soon the fighting was done, for reinforcements came from the south.

"Wellmet!" Legolas called in Westron as he turned Arod to check on his warriors. "_It is safe_!" he called, though the healers and warriors could see for themselves.

Faramir made his way towards the commander, calling "well met" in return as he picked his way past the orc corpses. Suddenly, though, he stopped, for the archers in the centre of the group were removing their hoods. Lo and behold, most of the archers were beautiful Elven women, and three of them wore delicate circlets signifying rank.

Faramir was absolutely floored when the packs behind two healers abruptly started moving. They weren't packs at all, but rather people – very little people, riding behind the archers, and hooded and cloaked so as to be unnoticed.

Faramir at first thought them to be Hobbits, perhaps even Sam Gamgee having returned to Ithilien's garden, but then he saw their faces. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful!

In that moment, Faramir realised that there was beauty in this world beyond his wife Eowyn, and even the lovely Queen Arwen, and it stood before him now. Faramir knelt in deference to the beautiful creatures.

"Welcome to Ithilien," Faramir pronounced, and looked up to see a pair of intense green eyes boring into his own.

"Who you?" the three-year-old elf-child asked, in passable Westron, from her perch behind the healer.

Faramir stood, and was about to introduce himself, when Legolas rode up beside him and beat him to the mark.

"Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor, might I introduce to you the Treasure of Thranduil. Esteliel, this is Lord Faramir."

"You shot the bad orc," Esteliel declared, pointing at Faramir's bow. "You better archer than Gilloth."

This statement precipitated a shout of outrage from the healer she rode with, which Faramir only managed to catch parts of, for it was spoken in a dialect dissimilar from the Sindarin he had studied.

Legolas barked an order to move on, and pulled Faramir up to ride behind him, despite the Man's protests. "Let us be introduced in a more friendly environ. Thank you for the reinforcement."

"You are welcome, Legolas. Pray tell, can I not walk on my own two feet?"

"Of course not!" Legolas laughed. "But you can have two of Arod's four."

Soon enough, the company of Men and Elves reached the preliminary settlement of Ithilien.

"Prince Faramir is the leader of the Men here in Ithilien," Legolas informed his people in clear Westron. "Speak in Westron as often as you are able," he added, "for it is in our common interest to speak plainly to one another as we live side by side."

The gathered Elves answered with a simultaneous, _yes, Prince Legolas_, and Legolas nodded before continuing.

"Now I speak to the Men of Ithilien," he swept his gaze over Faramir and his Men. "Our purpose in Ithilien is twofold. We are here to rebuild and replant Ithilien, to make this forest beautiful again. But we have a greater purpose. Andunëthon, Esteliel, Bragoglín, come forward, please."

The two tiny figures were ushered forward by their parents, accompanied by an adolescent. "These are the Treasures of the Elves. Few children have been born to us in recent long-years, indeed Andunëthon has no agemates, for no children were born to us during the dragon Smaug's reign, or in the years leading up to the War of the Ring, with the exception of this one ellon. Indeed, Esteliel and Bragoglín were born shortly after the War ended."

"Why do you tell us this?" one of the Gondorian guards wondered aloud.

"I must impress upon you all the importance of protecting these children. They are literally the only elvish children to have been born in hundreds of years."

"Why are they not in Rivendell, if you wanted to keep them safe?"

"Rivendell is exactly where everyone outside of this wood believes them to be," Legolas announced into the attentive silence. "Other than this company, only the Elvenking knows the true location of these treasures."

sures."


End file.
